


Pillow Forts

by DarkMoonMaiden



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling, Fluff, Hallucinogens, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Peter just wants a hug, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Wade's a good guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:00:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1288702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkMoonMaiden/pseuds/DarkMoonMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a mission, Peter gets hit with a hallucinogenic gas that makes him see his worst fears in vivid detail. Wade's the one who finds him, and comforts him through the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Forts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I'm in an angsty mood today. At least there's a happy ending. Apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors. I'm writing this at one in the morning, so I'm not fully awake.

Peter collapsed as soon as he let go of his web, stumbling onto his knees in the middle of the street and gasping in pain. Struggling to his feet, eyes stinging from unshed tears, he limped into the nearest alley and collapsed behind a trashbin.

Everything hurt. This villain had been tougher than most, putting up a vicious fight with a dangerous amount of carelessness. He’d taken numerous shots from Iron Man and Hawkeye, yet continued to fight, ignoring the arrows sticking out of his arm and torso, while throwing explosives and knives laced with poison at the superheroes.

The worst of it wasn’t physical, though. The man had managed to exude some kind of magical vapor that trapped a person inside their own heads, reliving their personal hells again and again until something brought them out.

The other Avengers had managed to avoid these shots, but Peter wasn’t as lucky. He’d shoved Spiderwoman out of the way just in time, taking her place in front of the sorcerer and getting a full blast of the spell. He had been dimly aware of his teammates shouting for him before everything went black and he tumbled to the ground.

He didn’t know how long had passed before the sorcerer was knocked unconscious, freeing Peter and other victims from the majority of the vapor’s effects. They were no longer in the full throes of the spell, but there were after effects that plagued them and would take hours to get out of their systems.

Waking up propped against a building, momentarily forgotten by his teammates as they helped civilians, Peter had panicked and ran. Vaguely, he was aware that leaving while still dizzy and without telling his teammates wasn’t the wisest decisions, but his whole being was just telling him to _runrunrun get away from everyone and everything before they end up dead like Uncle Ben and Captain Stacy…_

Peter choked on a sob, curling up into a tighter ball and cradling his head in his hands. Images of their bodies were imprinted on his brain, his aunt and uncle’s dead eyes staring straight through him, and Gwen cradling her dead father to her chest before debris fell on her, crushing her to death. And all Peter could do was watch, listen to the screams of agony, rooted to the spot and desperately crying out for them. The scenes kept on repeating, but the faces changed, flitting from Steve to Thor to Tony, even Director Fury, looping after the list of those closest to him ended.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut behind his mask. God, he just wanted to get home and sleep for a week, maybe take a Xanax or a sleeping pill to get his mind to _shut up_ and let him recuperate. But that involved walking, or swinging, and he didn’t think he could do that right now. He’d wait for an hour or two, until Peter felt like he was stable enough to go swinging through the city, back to his nice little apartment. Sometime during the mission, Peter had lost his communicator, giving him no way to alert his team that he was alright or to call for a ride back.

_“Spidey? Spidey, you around here?”_

Peter blinked, uncurling slightly to peek his head around the side of the trashcan. Was that...Deadpool? What was the mercenary doing out here, and calling for him, no less?

“ _Spidey, where are you?”_

“Over here,” Peter croaked out, hoping that the other could hear him. He couldn’t raise his voice above a whisper, his bruised ribs not allowing for much air to come out and his aching head warning him to stay quiet.

Luckily, Deadpool had heard him. The footsteps rapidly grew nearer, and a shadow fell over Peter. He blearily looked up at the other’s sharp intake of breath.

“Oh, Spidey,” Deadpool breathed, crouching down with his hand hovering over Peter’s knee. “What happened?”

“Think my ribs are bruised,” Peter managed brokenly, struggling to sit up farther. Wade swooped down, carefully supporting him and helping him to stand up. “I’m a bit shaken up, too. Besides that, I think I’m okay.”

A frown underneath Wade’s mask wrinkled the fabric between his eyebrows. “You don’t look very okay,” he disagreed. “Do you want me to get the Captain? He’s worried sick, y’know, after you just ran off.”

_Steve’s eyes stared at Peter accusingly as he struggled to drag himself out from under the rubble, teeth bared in a bloody snarl--_

“No,” Peter slurred out, pushing away from Wade. He stumbled when the mercenary’s steadying grip was no longer on him, but it returned quickly. “Not Steve. Or any of the others. I just...I need to go home and sleep.”

“Do you need a lift home?” Wade asked.

“I think I can make it by myself,” Peter said, trying once again to stand on his own. He failed, much to his utter embarrassment.

The silence that followed unnerved Peter. He wasn’t used to the merc with a mouth not being...mouthy. Wade always had something witty to say, some sort of comeback or random idea straight from his brain to his mouth. Even in the most serious of situations, Wade had managed to come up with words. The absence of the usual stream of thought was disturbing. The red and black mask didn’t give any sort of emotion or clue as to what he was thinking.

Abruptly, a grin tugged at Wade’s mask. “I’ll take you home!” he said cheerily, scooping Peter up into his arms.

Peter’s squawk of surprised transformed into a hiss of pain, gripping Wade’s shoulders to lessen the pain on his ribs. “Wade, put me _down_!” he snarled, fighting.

“Hush, baby boy,” Wade hushed him flippantly, cradling him to his chest as if he weighed nothing. “You obviously are in no condition to walk, and I have nothing better to do. And Captain America would have my ass if I left you in an alley. And I like spending time with you?”

“What?”

“Huh? Petey, pay attention. And besides, it’s three against one. I win.”

Peter groaned, covering his eyes with a hand as Wade carried him out onto the sidewalk. “Wade, the voices in your head don’t count.”

“Rude. They so do.”

Peter sighed in restrained anger, knowing that anything he said would just be shot down or twisted by Wade. At least it was night time, he reasoned dully, which meant that there weren’t any people on the street to gawk at the spectacle of Spider-man being carried like a bride by a much-too-cheery Deadpool. And on a separate note, how did Wade know where he was going? Wade had never been to Peter’s new apartment…

“How do you know where I live?” Peter asked tiredly, realizing his head was resting on Wade’s shoulder. _When did that happen?_  Whatever, it felt nice.

“I stalked you,” Wade stated, matter-of-fact. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I just followed you home after a mission to see where you lived. I don’t root through your garbage or steal your dirty clothes.” Peter covered his eyes with his hand, taking a deep breath and preparing for the worst.

“So how much do you know about me?” he forced out.

“Don’t worry, Spidey, your cute little face and your name are still safe. I thought you’d get pissy if I found out your secret identity, so I haven’t looked into it. Even though it made me want to gouge my own _eyes_ out because holy shit I am _not_ good with being patient. Feel honored, Spidey. Honored.” Peter huffed.

Sure enough, Wade did stop in front of the correct building. Realizing that Peter didn’t have his key, Wade covered the security camera as the other buzzed the security guard to let them in. The guard did it without checking to see who it was, as usual, and the two masked men were able to get into the apartment building and climb the staircase quickly.

Wade climbed the stairs before stopping on the fifth floor. Peter leaned heavily against the wall next to his apartment door, anxiously looking around for his neighbors while Wade picked the simple lock. The young superhero would never admit it, but he was regretting allowing Wade to let him stand on his own. His legs were refusing to hold him up, and the whole world was spinning rapidly.

“Got it,” Wade sighed happily when he heard the satisfying click of the lock. He opened the door and wrapped an arm around Peter’s waist, gingerly leading him into the dark apartment.

The mercenary whistled between his teeth. “This place is a bit of a dump, Spidey,” he commented, settling Peter on the ratty, black couch.

“I’m a vigilante college student, how do you expect me to pay for things?” Peter whined, unthinkingly pulling off his mask.

He slid further into the seat, relishing in the familiar softness. He tuned out the sounds of Wade rummaging around in his cabinets, absently slurring out that the first aid kit was in the bathroom. He got a grunt of thanks in response as Wade made his way down the hall, the rummaging continuing.

“Okay, so apparently you’re out of important stuff, like actual painkillers and drugs, but I got you some ice for your ribs and bandaids…”

Wade trailed off as he came to a stop in front of Peter. Rubbing his forehead, the superhero gave a questioning hum before it finally hit him.

Oh.

_Oh._

Frozen, Peter didn’t say anything, staring at Wade like a deer in the headlights of a car. His mind drew a blank on anything useful, choosing to go straight into panic mode and leave him without any sort of plan of getting out of this situation.

Watching Peter, Wade slowly put down the medical equipment on the table.

"Um. Oops, I think?" Wade managed. "I...don't think I was supposed to see your gorgeous face.”

“No,” Peter said faintly, debating on whether he should put his mask back on. _Too late now._ “No, you weren’t.”

More silence, and then Wade slowly sat down in the armchair on the other side of the coffee table. He took off his own mask in an effort to make Peter more comfortable, even though he knew that Peter had seen his ugly mug dozens of times before.

Peter reached out and took the ice, pressing it gingerly against his hurt ribs. “Don’t...tell anyone what I look like,” Peter said. “My identity still needs to be a secret--”

“No, no, of course I won’t tell anyone!” Wade rushed to say, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. “And don’t worry, even if I did, I don’t think anyone would believe me that Spider-man’s a twink--not that being a twink’s a bad thing! It’s just, y’know, most twinks who look like they’re sixteen aren’t able to swing off of buildings and take down a monster that’s three times his size--”

“I’m twenty,” Peter cringed, “and please stop saying that word.”

“What word? Twink?”

_“Yes.”_

“But you gotta _embrace_ the twinkiness, Spidey. Embrace who you truly are. Denial’s never a good thing, especially for those who’ve just gone through puberty.”

“Damn it, Wade--”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m trying to make the situation better for you.” He scratched the back of his head. “But I don’t think it’s working out very well.”

Peter was too tired to come up with a response. His instincts told him he should do something, like kick Wade out or alert S.H.I.E.L.D. and have them deal with it, but everything about those two options sounded unappealing. One of his teammates would undoubtedly be the one to come over, and they would refuse to leave after Wade had been dealt with. The last thing Peter needed right now was to see their faces, and have those horrible hallucinations that still plagued the back of his mind become clearer. He needed a respite, to have the night away from them so he could recuperate fully.

“Maybe I should go,” Wade said, snapping Peter back to the situation.

“No,” Peter blurted, panic rising. “You...can stay. Please. The...the hallucinogenic is still in my system, and I need someone here in case something bad happens.” _I’m scared,_  he didn't say. _Please don’t go._

“If you want me to stay, I will,” the mercenary replied, seeming surprised. “But...why aren’t you trying to kill me, exactly? Like, I thought you were going to go apeshit there for a second.”

“I don’t want to think about it right now,” Peter sighed heavily. He fought to stand up, his side protesting loudly. Wade stood when he did, poised and ready to help Peter if he fell. “We can talk about everything in the morning, okay? I just want a shower and sleep. I have some clothes that’ll probably fit you in the hall closet, if you want to change into something more comfortable.”

“Do you need any help?” Wade called after Peter as he trailed down to the bathroom.

“I am fully capable of showering by myself, thank you very much.”

“Damn. I was hoping to see your ass.”

That earned a weak laugh, which Wade chalked up to a victory.

Even though he knew it was slightly creepy and unnecessary, Wade couldn’t help but want to fret over his Spidey. So, after changing into the clothes Peter had directed him to--and hot damn, were they soft and comfortable (and smelled exactly like the young superhero)--Wade held vigil outside of the bathroom, sitting on the floor beside the door. He could hear the occasional hisses of pain as Peter moved around in the bathroom, followed by a sigh of appreciation as he stepped under the spray of water. It was easy for Wade to imagine Peter washing himself and relaxing in the shower, but to avoid an inappropriate erection, he tried not to.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, because Wade was secretly hoping he could have helped Peter and gotten the chance to hold him close), Peter was able to finish showering without having any accidents.

Wearing flannel pants and a sweater that was _much_ too adorable for someone like Peter to wear, the superhero exited the bathroom. He didn’t seem surprised to see Wade by the door, waiting for him to stand up before going into the bedroom.

"So I, uh, guess I'll be on the couch, then," Wade said, shifting from foot to foot as he watched Peter climb into the bed. "Unless you wanna make a pillow fort and sleep in it with the Christmas lights?"

"I'm sorry, Wade. Not tonight," Peter sighed, curling up in a ball facing away from Wade. "There should already be blankets and a pillow by the couch for you, if you want them."

"Alright, baby boy. Get some sleep. I'll be here to scare the monsters away." He heard Peter's disbelieving snort before he shut the door.

The couch was soft and worn from use, but wasn't the most comfortable thing that Wade had felt. He wouldn't complain, though--it wasn't even close to being the most uncomfortable thing he'd slept on, and it was _Spider-man’s_. He would deal with it even if it was a bed of nails.

Punching the pillow to try and get some more comfiness, Wade looked around the room. There was still a small Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, even though the holiday had passed a good three weeks ago. There were boxes next to it, filled with Christmas lights and delicate ornaments for the tree. No doubt juggling school and crime-fighting hadn’t give him much time to take down his decorations. Maybe he could finish it up with Spidey in the morning, as a sort of get-well gift. The idea sent tingles of warmth running through him.

Of course, it wasn't actually warm. The heater was apparently too expensive for Peter’s poor college student self, leaving the apartment in as cold as the winter air outside. _Summertime must be hell._

Wade stared at the ceiling, following the cracks in the plaster with his eyes as the minutes ticked by, waiting for sleep. He stayed awake, though, fearing that if he fell asleep Peter would have a nightmare or get attacked… More than once he felt the urge to jump up and race to Peter’s room, to make sure that the young superhero was safely curled up in his bed, but one of the voice in his head warned him that it was highly inappropriate to rush into his room four times an hour.

Barely a half hour later, there was a muted shout from Peter’s room. Wade felt his chest tighten, listening closely for any other sounds of distress.

Peter walked in soon after, still wearing his pajamas and biting his thumbnail nervously. He didn’t say anything, perching on the chair across from Wade’s couch. His eyes were rimmed with red and hair mussed from sleep, and he refused to meet the mercenary’s gaze as he sat up on the couch.

Wade pushed the blanket so it was covering his legs from the cold. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Do you want to make a blanket fort now?” Wade asked hopefully.

A pause. “Yeah. I do.”

Wade hopped up excitedly. He happily ordered Peter to start pulling the cushions off of the chair and couch as he went into the bedroom and stripped the bed of its sheets, blankets and pillows. When he came back into the living room, the other boy had already turned on some lights and was slowly pulling the pillows from the couch, being careful of his tender ribs.

“Where do we start?” Peter asked as the last of the pillows were set on the ground. He looked up at Wade when there wasn’t a response. “What?”

“You’ve _never_ made a pillow fort before?” Wade asked slowly, disbelief mounting.

“My aunt and uncle were too old to build them with me.”

“Oh, baby boy, you have been _missing out_. Prepare to have your mind blown by the wonders of blanket tents and hipster-y Christmas lights.”

It was a bit of a slow process, since Peter was unable to lift things very high and didn’t know how to make them properly, as Wade reminded him every so often. It seemed that Wade didn’t know how to make them, though, because nothing would stay in place. When they were both frustrated and tired, they finally got out Peter’s webslingers and glued the blankets to the wall and together to hang properly.

The lights were finally strung up inside the little nest, giving it the warm feeling that completed the picture. The tent was large enough that they could stretch their legs out, but they had to wriggle close together and share a blanket. Wade didn’t mind, though; Peter was warm, and his presence was comforting.

They stared at the lights, not saying anything to break the silence. Peter was the one who finally spoke. “Thanks for doing this, Wade.”

Wade’s head lolled to the side to look at Peter. His face was illuminated by the lights, making his skin glow. Peter’s head tilted to the side also, so they were both staring at each other.

“I know that I’ve been kind of a dick to you before,” Peter continued, his arm hesitantly sliding until it was lying in the space between them. His pinky edged closer to Wade’s scarred hand. “I was joking a lot of the time, but...I’m not sure if that got across sometimes.” Wade swallowed, his breathing shallow as his own hand twitched towards Peter.

“Yeah, I knew you were joking,” Wade murmured, “but I do like hearing you say that. Just to make sure.” He moved infinitesimally closer, hand now covering Peter’s. The superhero shifted so that their hands were interlaced, faces mere inches apart.

“You’re real cute, Spidey,” Wade blurted. “And funny. And great at kicking ass. I don’t think I’ve told you that enough--well, definitely not the cute part, because I think Black Widow would do unspeakable things if she heard that from my mouth--”

“Hush,” Peter interrupted him with a breathy laugh, smiling toothily. “You’re ruining the moment.”

“Is this a moment? Right now? Are we having a moment?”

“I’m not sure about now, but we _were._ ”

Wade panicked. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin this great moment. A total accident, I swear. You know how I get, I just can’t shut up for more than ten minutes before I start blabbering on. At least I left your ass and sexy legs out until this point, which is a feat in itself.”

Peter laughed properly now, squeezing Wade's hand. The teenager replied with a kiss, warm and sweet, pressed for a few mind-blowing seconds. Wade responded carefully, not asking for anything that might make Peter uncomfortable, and pulled back when Peter did. Peter’s dorky smile was no doubt mirrored on Wade’s face, but he couldn’t care less at this point.

Peter moved so his head was pillowed on Wade’s arm, hand resting lightly on Wade’s muscular chest. “Is this alright?” he asked as Wade resituated the blanket around them.

“‘Course it is, Spidey,” Wade cooed, running his fingers soothingly through Peter’s shower-dampened hair. “Anything you need, I’m here.”

Peter closed his eyes, and Wade kept playing with his hair, slowing to a halt when he thought Peter was drifting off to sleep.

“Peter.”

Wade looked down at him in confusion.

“My name. It’s Peter Parker.”

A grin grew on Wade’s face, his cheeks flushing red with happiness. “Nice to meet you, Peter.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments/kudos would be much appreciated!
> 
> Also, I'm really eager for something to write, so if you have any prompts for me (spideypool or otherwise), please send me them: darkmoonmaiden.tumblr.com


End file.
